“Tell me something, Giuseppe,” I muse, interrupting Levi’s whining.
Giuseppe glances in the rearview, guiding the steering wheel. He is a giant man, my lieutenant, with a soft face and dark eyes. A good, trustworthy soldier.
“Is it possible for the men to respect a leader who hides in his castle?”
He narrows his eyes. That’s what I like about him. He always thinks carefully before speaking.
“No, I don’t think so,” he rumbles. “Not if he stays there all the time. Or unless he’s old. Men can respect a man who’s already paid his dues.”
Levi grunts beside me, shaking his head. He’s stick-thin with a wisp of black mustache and dark brown eyes. I’ve known him since we were kids, and those eyes have always been the same: searching. Perceptive. Aware.
“Dio aiutami, Angelo,” he growls. “Next
